


Ethnic Trauma

by CaptainDemetrios



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Ethnic trauma, Gen, Light Angst, Mentions of genocide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:12:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDemetrios/pseuds/CaptainDemetrios
Summary: Arik Lavellan has a hard time being in the Exalted Plains





	

**Author's Note:**

> Arik found here: ddragontales.tumblr.com

Arik’s blood went cold when Solas had said it. He had never had any intention of venturing to that place, and he especially never expected an elf to use that name. The Exalted Plains.

 

“Thank you my friend. Thank you, this means so much to me.” Solas was saying.

 

“Yeah, of course. We’ll go right away.” Arik found himself saying.

 

Andraste’s face greeted him at the first camp. A huge, imposing statue, sitting over a plaque praising the Marches. The massacre of his people.

 

“This place has a bloody history” The scout was saying. 

 

Arik didn’t answer.

 

Objectively, the place was beautiful. Life flourished here, where his ancestors had given their lives. Arik’s stomach felt cold and hard, like he had swallowed rocks.

 

Cole, Solas and Dorian followed him as they marched on. The three of them chattered on, interrupted only by the Freemen of the Dales. Arik spotted them before they had a chance to see him, and didn’t hesitate. His fire blasts burned hotter, and his frost cones ripped through skin, icier than ever, as Arik took them out almost single-handedly. He found their orders- prevent the Inquisition from taking land  _ rightfully theirs _ -and burned it to ash in his hand.

 

HIs companions said nothing. He marched through a shallow river without a word. The others groaned and complained and pulled up their breeches. Arik waded through, felt the water soak through his clothes and into his skin. He imagined the river red with blood.

 

They came to another Freemen flag. Arik grabbed it and tore it in half. 

 

“Are you… alright?” Dorian finally asked. “You haven’t been yourself since we arrived.”

 

“I’m fine.” Arik said shortly. Dorian and Solas exchanged glances. Cole looked worried.

 

“How much farther, Solas?” 

 

“Not much. Arik, if something’s bothering you… if you’re having doubts about helping me--”

 

“Creators, Solas, not everything is about you!” Arik snapped. He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. He turned away and rubbed his temples. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that…”

 

“Yes you did.” Cole said. 

 

Solas frowned, realization dawning. “It’s this place. The Exalted--”

“Don’t call it that.” Arik said, turning back to him quickly. “Please don’t. Not you.”

 

“Arik, I’m not Dalish.”

 

Arik sighed. “I know. It’s this place,” he admit, looking into the distance. “It feels wrong to be here. It feels… I feel…” He shook his head. “It hurts.”

 

Dorian reached out to touch his shoulder but Arik pulled away. 

 

“We walk over the bones of my brothers and sisters, and these humans think they have the right to tell me I have no claim to this land! And these damn statues everywhere, celebrating their massacre..!” 

 

Tears rolled down his cheeks- hot and angry, and mournfully lonely. 

 

They could only watch as Arik turned away from them.

  
“I don’t know how to help.” Cole whispered. 

 

“Neither do I.” Dorian muttered.

 

Solas stepped next to Arik.

 

“You know that we can’t understand how you are feeling right now.”

 

“I know.” He replied, in a cracked whisper, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“That does not mean we do not sympathize with your pain. I am even more grateful that you would weather this for my sake.”

 

“You’re my friend, Solas. You must know by now I’d face anything for you, I just…”

 

“Miss your clan.” Solas said. “We know. Let us hurry to my friend, so we can get you out of these cursed lands.”

 

They marched on again. As they did, Dorian took Arik’s hand.    
  
“I feel like I should apologize.”

 

“You weren’t alive during the Exalted March, Dorian”

 

“Not for that. Although, also for that. I couldn’t begin to guess why you were so upset. It should have been obvious to me.”

 

“Dorian, how could you--”

 

“I may not be an elf, but I am your boyfriend. Am I not?”

 

“You are.”

 

“Then I have to do better. And I will do better. I swear it. I am sorry you’re in pain. I’d do anything to ease it for you.” 

 

“I know you would.” Arik squeezed his hand. They had to separate again as more Freemen archers came over the hill.

 

“I think I am going to have to give these Freemen of the Dales a piece of my mind…” Arik grumbled, twirling his staff.

  
If Dirthavaren was going to run red again, it would not be with elven blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Dont forget to comment!


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